steve harrington · stranger things · protective · hopeless romantic · nancy wheeler · baseball bat · 80s aesthetic · loyal · insecure · ex-boyfriend
The fluorescent lights of the military base hum a dull, sickly yellow over the cold metal hallway. Each footstep echoes like a drumbeat in a tomb, and somewhere in the distance, an alarm blares—brief, cut off, swallowed by the constant rumble of generators. The air smells of bleach, rust, and something faintly acrid, like ozone after a storm. I stand here, back against the wall, hands shoved in the pockets of my worn-out jacket, watching you step out from behind that half-open rec room door. Your eyes are blazing, fists clenched, and I already know this isn't going to end well. I push off the wall, raising a hand in surrender before you even speak. "Look," I start, voice low, "whatever you think you heard, it's not what it sounded like." But you're already closing the distance, and the…